


we will never be the same again

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Monster's Darling [14]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “When you shoot,” Dark had told him on his first day, watching the tremors in his fingers around the handgun. “You shoot to kill. There’s no talking in this world, Jack. You either kill the man on the other side of your gun, or you get killed. It’s black and white. If you don’t want to die, you kill.”





	we will never be the same again

**Author's Note:**

> And now we set events into motion.
> 
> With a look into Dark's backstory.
> 
> I totally meant to have this part out earlier than I did, but school happened and life happened and blaaaah. Also I was taking a couple days' break from it to work on other projects (some of which will be posted very soon!) But this chapter is a little boring, I apologize, but it is setting up some further events.
> 
> I actually don't know how much longer this series is going to be. I'm actually closing in on the ending I'd originally planned. I don't have an exact number, but I do know this series is heading that way, and I hope--I sincerely hope that the ending will be satisfactory. I think it fits. 
> 
> But that's neither here nor there. This part is here, and it creates the beginning of where I want to be. The next part will be more interesting--I hope! Thank you all so much for your continued support; it means the world to me, and honestly, sometimes it keeps me going everyday.
> 
> You all are so wonderful. That said, please enjoy!
> 
> Title from "Things We Lost in the Fire" by Bastille.

He’s getting better. 

At least, that’s what Jules says. 

Dark’s not so sure. 

It’s been two weeks since the debacle with Cry. It’s been two weeks since Jack found out the truth about his mother. It’s been two weeks since he stormed out of his life, only to reappear a few days later, demanding retribution. 

It’s been two weeks since Dark has started teaching him basic fighting tactics, and how to use weapons. He’s taking to it rather well, after getting over the initial shock of knowing that one day, he wouldn’t be firing at a target, but at another person.

“When you shoot,” Dark had told him on his first day, watching the tremors in his fingers around the handgun. “You shoot to kill. There’s no talking in this world, Jack. You either kill the man on the other side of your gun, or you get killed. It’s black and white. If you don’t want to die, you kill.” 

The shakes are becoming fewer and farther in between. But Dark offers no comfort to him at any point--coddling him could get him killed. Smoothing out the shaking in his hands, providing words of encouragement could get him killed. Every time he misses, Dark tells him to do it again, and again, and again until he hits it right on the head. 

Blue eyes full of anger, bitterness--he can deal with that, as long as they’re still bright and alive. 

In two weeks, he’s made a lot of improvement. The guns don’t look as big in his hands, and he’s calmer every time he comes in for practice. It’s like he steps into a different skin, and sometimes--

Sometimes, when Jack looks like that, it reminds him of Anti.

“I’ve got a tag on Cry,” Jules tells him one day, after Jack’s headed out. “It’s all tentative information, but he’s there. He’ll be there for a while. Should I tell Jack?”

“No,” Dark replies. “Not yet. He’s not ready yet. At this rate, he’ll get himself killed.” 

“I think he’d be okay,” Jules says. “You’re with him. Like hell you’ll let him go alone. I’ve been watching him--I think he’s safe as he’s gonna get.”

Dark rubs his temples. “Jules, I underwent years of training to get to where I am. Jack’s made zero progress in comparison to that. All it takes is one mistake and he’s gone.” 

“If you drag it out too long, he’ll come to me,” Jules murmurs. “And I’m not going to stand between that timebomb and the information he wants. Either that, or he’s going to hunt Cry down himself and get killed that way. You gotta risk it and be with him.” 

“Revenge is a dangerous road,” Dark sighs. “He’s caught up in it. And if I have to watch him die--”

“Then don’t fuck it up,” his partner snips. “Send me the word, I’ll tell you where he is. Figure out how to handle lover boy, and I’ll do the rest. Like always. Asshole.”

Dark scowls. 

~~

“We’re going to do something different today,” Dark says, jerking his chin for Jack to follow. 

Blue eyes squint, confused, but Jack doesn’t question him. Pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie, he keeps a steady distance between himself and Dark as he leads them into a separate part of the facility. 

It’s dusk out, the light not eve shining through the windows as Dark opens the door, holding it for Jack as he enters. He shuts it behind them, locking it, and Jack turns sharply at that.

“Relax,” he sighs, and to his credit, Jack’s shoulders seem to loosen. It seems his words still have marginal effect on him. “Take a look.”

And he does. Jack surveys the room with a mute curiosity, eyes glazing over the various glass and deteriorating metal objects set up around the room. He can feel his wonder, the complete confusion, and from the corner of the room, Dark retrieves a bat and glasses.

He tosses them over. Jack catches the glasses, but drops the metal bat. It clatters to the ground, and Dark rolls his eyes. 

“Catch it next time,” he grouses, and Jack scowls as he leans down to pick it up. “Glasses on, kid.” 

“Not a kid,” Jack snips back, but does as he’s told. “What am I doing?”

Dark puts his arms behind his back, stepping as far away from the rest of the room as possible. “Let loose.” 

“You want me to do what?” Jack asks. 

“Break everything,” Dark orders. “Go on.” 

Heaving out a huge sigh, he can hear the defiance in Jack’s breath. But nonetheless, he rolls his shoulders, and steps towards the rubble.

The bat swings, and the sound of glass shattering fills the room.

A beat passes, and Jack stills, unmoving, then-- 

Shatter. Shatter. Shatter. 

It doesn’t stop. 

For what feels like an eternity, Jack shatters the glass, metal, and he’s pretty sure Jack slams the set a good few times as well. The whole room floats with something strange, cold and awkward, and vaguely, he hears Jack’s cries of frustration. 

Then everything just stops. Jack drops the metal bat, and Dark watches him tremble, not crying, but weak. He sucks in a sharp breath, an ungodly whimper, and Dark says, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.” 

Jack doesn’t move. “My mother’s dead.”

“Beyond that,” Dark insists. He doesn’t move from his own place against the wall. “What are you afraid of?” 

“I’m not scared,” Jack insists, his fists clenching. “I’m sad, Dark. I’m depressed. I’m grieving. Why does there have to be more?”

“There doesn’t,” Dark admits. “But there is. What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” Jack finally turns to look at him. 

He looks so much older, then. There’s a tightness to his face, an aged look that pulls at him, weighing him down. He’s got the face of someone who’s been through hell and back, all for nothing, and Dark’s the one that put him there. 

“When are you going to realize,” Dark says, his voice calm. “You can’t lie to me?” 

“When are you going to realize I don’t give a shit?” Jack spits back. “When are you going to realize that what you did to me was fucked up, and I still think about it everyday? When are you going to realize that I don’t recognize myself in the mirror anymore because I’m someone’s son and the person who I’ve been in love with all my life is the one that killed her? When are you going to realize that I can’t not care even if that’s all you seem to do!” 

Dark nods once. “Let’s try this again, Jack. What are you afraid of?”

He expects Jack to lash out. He expects Jack to cross the space between them and deck him, a hit he’s fully willing to take. Dark doesn’t let people hit him often, but he’ll take this one. But Jack doesn’t do anything except expel a large breath, putting his face into his hands.

“Killing Cry won’t bring her back,” Jack whispers. “Killing him won’t give me the chance to know her. What happens after I kill him? What if I _can’t_ kill him? Nothing will ever be the same again and that scares the shit out of me. I can’t push this one under the rug and forget about it.”

Dark breathes in, and finally bridges the gap between them. His shoes clack on the floor, ominous and imposing, and Jack looks up. He’s not quite crying, but his eyes are wet. 

“You will never be that person again,” Dark warns him. “The person you were before you knew this information, before you became a pawn in Cry’s game--he will never come back. You will never forget. But you will move on. If you kill Cry--and that will be your decision--you have to build a new person after that.”

“I don’t think I can,” Jack says. “If I kill him, I--I can’t--I’m not a murderer. But I want him dead, and I want to do it. Does that make sense?”

“That’s your decision,” Dark says coolly, again. “I do understand. I won’t make you kill him, but I’ll let you. One way or the other, he will die for making a fool of me and using you.” 

Bright blue eyes gaze at him. “You’d let me?” 

Dark raises a brow. “I was under the assumption that’s what you were here for. I wasn’t about to let you into this shitstorm without preparing you a little bit. But to answer your question--yes, Jack. I’d let you kill him. Any way you’d like. A bullet to the head. Knife to the heart. I’d pin him down by the hands and let you choke him, if that’s what you wanted.” 

“Why?” Jack asks, like he’s gotta fucking ask. Like it isn’t already obvious. 

“Because I get it,” he says, finally, rerouting the question away from his painfully prevalent _feelings_. “Because I had a family once, and she were taken from me. I played into someone else’s hands, and I found my sister dead. That someone was my mentor. He had used my sister as a means of making me stronger, more bitter. In the middle of the night, when I found out, I slit his throat, and took his place, and painted anyone who opposed me with his blood.” 

A strange sensation fills him, telling this story. He’s not sure he’s ever told anyone this story. Jules has never asked. Perhaps Anti knows, but Dark can’t ever recall telling it to him. 

Jack’s looking at him with a sense of wonder, somber and quiet. Like he almost pities him. Dark sighs, “It made me who I am today, getting that revenge. It’s a dangerous road. It changes you. But I’d give anything in the world for you to have that peace.” 

The glass crunches, and Dark’s eyes snap to Jack, who’s closing the rest of the minuscule space between him. They don’t touch, and Dark doesn’t expect him to. Everything between them is about as fragile and as delicate as the shards beneath their feet--broken, bleeding. 

There’s no way to make it right. Letting Jack get his revenge won’t make it right. But the only place they can go from here is forward.

“We’ll go from here,” Jack murmurs. 

Dark’s not sure what he means by it, but this is the most civil Jack has been since the ordeal, and he’ll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to talk to me over at galaxyghosty.tumblr.com! I really love hearing from you guys, and I do post snippets and updates about TMD (and other projects) over on there!


End file.
